


One Pump or Two?

by Catchclaw



Series: Mental Mimosa [40]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-05-17 06:17:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14826941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catchclaw/pseuds/Catchclaw
Summary: From the first day he walks in, fumbling with his iPhone and looking adorably flustered--far too adorable for somebody wearing a custom-cut three-piece and a Rolex and wearing them so fucking well--Thor is one of his favorite customers to think about.





	One Pump or Two?

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: I’m a busy businessperson and my barista keeps misspelling my name in increasingly disrespectful ways, honestly, who does this person think they are. Prompt from this [generator.](http://colormayfade.tumblr.com/generator)

Thor goes through phases with his coffee.

For a month, all he’ll drink are Americanos. Then it’s black and white mochas. There’s an unfortunate Frappachino phase (mercifully short) and then it’s back to actual coffee: lattes, sometimes with a shot of hazelnut or caramel because for all his muscle-y, fills out his suits perfectly, looks like he could kick Adonis’ ass bullshit, the guy’s got a sweet tooth and he’s not willing to deny himself completely.

Loki likes that.

The biggest upside to being a barista, aside from the day-old pastries he lives off of, are the customers. Not getting to know them as people or engaging them in petty chit chat; gods, no. Loki hates that. But the stories he gets to make up about them, to spin in his own head when he’s bored--that’s the stuff. He’s spun out whole novels about some of them: what they do, who they fuck, why they always look so goddamn unhappy. It keeps the day moving, keeps him from punching Glenn, the day manager, keeps him from looking too closely at his own life because nothing good ever comes of that. And from the first day he walks in, fumbling with his iPhone and looking adorably flustered--far too adorable for somebody wearing a custom-cut three-piece and a Rolex and wearing them so fucking well--Thor is one of his favorite customers to think about.

He’s gorgeous, for one thing. That doesn’t hurt. And he always looks like he’s thinking about something, like there are grand ideas chasing each other around inside his big golden head. And he’s also unfailingly kind--not in the ostentatious, gaze-upon-my-benevolence way that some of the other business types have, but in a I do this everyday sort of way, a way that says to Loki _This is who I am_. Like, he always puts his phone away when he gets to the counter--a small thing that’s fucking huge--and looks Loki in the eye when he orders. Says please and good morning and thank you and smiles when Loki hands him his change. Sometimes, he’ll quietly pay for the people in line behind him; slip Loki a fifty with this shy little wink and say: “Stretch it as far as you can.” Sometimes, he’ll drop a fat tip in the jar, a familiar crisp Franklin, and do it almost slight of hand, so nobody sees it. Sometimes, he’ll come in the doors and say “Good morning, Loki” first thing, smiling as he shakes the rain from his hair or shoves his sunglasses in his breast pocket or brushes the snow from his face.

There aren’t perfect humans in the world--especially so close to Wall Street--but damn if Thor doesn’t seem to come close. Granted, in two months, they’ve never had a conversation that strays past “one pump or two?” but that’s because when Loki gets one look at that pretty face and perfect beard and eyes that strike like ball lightning he gets tongue-tied, loses all of his extensive vocabulary, and that’s how, that’s exactly how, Loki knows that he’s fucked.


End file.
